


Any Other Drabble -- Drabbles with a Vengence

by keelywolfe



Series: by any other name [80]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Alternate Universe - Underswap (Undertale), Chickens, Depression, Edge is the chicken whisperer, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, References to Depression, Spicyhoney - Freeform, Underfell Papyrus (Undertale), Underswap Papyrus (Undertale), Undertale Monsters on the Surface, papcest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-10-12 11:14:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 18,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20563364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keelywolfe/pseuds/keelywolfe
Summary: Even more drabbles from the 'By Any Other Name' series





	1. The Great Egg-scape

**Author's Note:**

> This drabble is based on a post I saw on tumblr and I knew that Edge would be the one who had to deal with it. ^_~

* * *

The rapid knocking on the door drew Edge out of the kitchen with haste. Stretch was napping on the sofa and Edge didn’t want him to wake if he needed a little extra sleep. He wasn't stirring, yet, but even Stretch couldn't sleep through that racket forever.

He opened the door, ready to quietly greet whoever was there, only to find empty space. Until he looked down, further down, close to the ground to see one of the neighborhood children looking up at him anxiously.

Edge shooed him back a bit and stepped out, closing the door behind him before crouching down. “What can I do for you?”

“Mister Edge Sir, I think one of your chickens got loose!” he burst out. He danced from foot to foot, twisting his hands together. 

Edge winced, both at the volume and the problem. “You think?”

He nodded hastily. “There’s a chicken over by the Bun Bakery, I think it’s yours.”

Considering that there weren’t any other chicken owners in New New Home that he was aware of, the chances were good. It took less than a second to decide to leave Stretch at home for this…just in case. If she was hurt or worse, it might be best if Edge handled it. “Can you show me?”

The child nodded vigorously, and they were off, Edge striding after his run. The bakery wasn’t far, only two streets away and the child led him down the narrow alley next to it, past the neatly lined up trash bins. This felt like the sort of action movie Stretch liked, Edge decided with faint amusement, a ruse that was leading him to certain attack by ninjas or similar ilk. The amount of children he saw at the back of the alley made him blink and the feeling grew. They stood in a semi-circle and in the middle of it was Nugget, happily pecking away at the remains of a stale cinnamon bunny. 

“We’ll help you catch her, Mister Edge sir!” the leader announced. “We’re ready!”

They were, Edge realized, bemused. Armed with butterfly nets and blankets, and wearing bicycle helmets; they were ready for battle with a tiny hen who was pecking away at her contraband treat.

“Children, she’s a chicken, not a velociraptor,” Edge said dryly. He crouched down, clicking his tongue and Nugget looked up immediately, abandoning the pastry to run to him. She clucked rapturously as he gave her a gentle scritch. Around him, the children watched in amazement, one even covering her mouth to stifle a little shriek as he stood and started back home, Nugget at his heels as she pleaded for more scritches with little chirrs and clucks. The children fell in line behind him, a bizarre parade winding their way through the streets. 

The streets were not empty, not in the shopping district, and more than one adult paused, staring as he walked by like a modern Pied Piper, leading chicken and children along. Edge ignored their stares, only nodded politely as if this was perfectly normal, thank you. 

It didn’t take long to get home, Nugget still following hopefully along and children trailing behind. On the porch, Stretch was sitting on the stairs with a cigarette in hand, still looking somewhat drowsy. He paused, cigarette halfway to his mouth and his sockets widening as he caught sight of them. His mouth opened, closed, opened again as Stretch scrubbed a hand across his face and mumbled, “i’m awake, right?”

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” Edge told him. He turned back to his menagerie, crouching down to pick up Nugget, who cooed happily in his arms. “Thank you, children.”

A ragged chorus of ‘your welcomes’ echoed. 

“Returning a lost pet usually means a reward, doesn’t it?” Faces and ears perked up, hopefully. “I believe cookies might be in order.”

Cheers rose, including one that was closer to a groan behind him, “yeah, babe, cookies sound good.” 

He paused to drop a soft kiss on top of Stretch’s skull. “Let me put this troublemaker back in the coop and I’ll bring some out for all the brats. Including you.”

Nugget was less content when he set her into the coop with her brethren, clucking despondently, but Edge only gave her a pat and a firm push in the direction of Noodle and Dumpling. Later, he would come search the coop to see where she’d made her daring escape but for now, there were minions, and Stretch, to feed. 

-finis


	2. Sulking It Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s not that Edge likes it when Stretch is pouting...

* * *

Autumn seemed early this year, leaves already turning, the wind taking on a chill. It was a good day for a plaid shirt and a walk, but Edge didn’t suggest it, not yet.

Not while Stretch was sitting on the porch, sulking.

Edge didn’t normally question what Stretch did during the day. He’d known from the beginning that Stretch was never going to be a 9 to 5 spouse, and whether he was in the lab, at the coffee shop, or planning experiments with the local minions was anyone’s guess. All Edge wanted was to be informed.

And he was, but the particular experiment Stretch had been considering for the children was teetering on the border of dangerous. He’d had misgivings before even mentioning it to Edge, and after some discussion, Stretch grudgingly agreed it wasn’t the best choice.

Agreeing did not mean he couldn’t have a good sulk about it. Truthfully, Edge thought he was cute when he was in a snit. The chainsmoking wasn’t appealing, but his face always scrunched up a little with his temper, and there was a tiny frown line between his brow bones. He looked a bit like an oversized toddler a step away from a tantrum, an illusion that his loose sweatshirt did not help with.

Saying so would be a quick route down the path towards a very irritable husband who would shortcut away if Edge tried for an embrace of any sort. Or possibly take him on a ride along and a trip down nausea lane depending on how annoyed Stretch was.

He tolerated being called cute or adorable right up to the point where he didn’t, and that point ended at when he was pouting.

But Edge hadn’t survived Underfell by lacking courage.

Stretch didn’t look up when the door opened, his attention on a fresh cigarette. Neither did he move when Edge sat down on the step behind him. It put him in the rare position of being the taller one, and he settled his chin on top of Stretch’s skull, his arms circling his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, love,” Edge said. He meant it. Being cutely sulky did not mean he enjoyed his husband’s disappointment. “But you’re right, they’re a little young yet and the safety concerns outweigh the available precautions.”

“i know,” Stretch sighed. He tamped out the cigarette only half-burned and leaned back against Edge. Obligingly, Edge shuffled closer, tightening his knees on either side of his husband and giving Stretch better access to his warmth. “i could do it on my own, but where’s the fun in that? exploding pumpkins will have to wait a while.”

“Perhaps you can do something else?” Edge suggested. “We do have something of a surplus of those little pumpkins.”

They both looked at the garden plot where they’d sown the ‘mystery seeds’. Mostly it had been flowers and a few stalks of ornamental corn, but the entire patch ended up being overtaken by vines of miniature pumpkins, surrounding all other plant-life with their tiny orange gourds.

“maybe…” Stretch’s voice took on a faraway quality that meant he was thinking and Edge was nearly dragged off the step as Stretch suddenly lurched forward, trying to scramble to his feet. “ohh!! we can do mini punkin chunkin! build a trebuchet and see how far we can fling them!”

“Pumpkin chucking?” Edge repeated doubtfully, and he swore that Stretch had some temporal magic outside of teleporting. There was no other way to explain how he managed to eel his way out of an embrace before Edge even noticed he was gone.

“punkin chunkin,” Stretch corrected. “trust me, it’s cool. i need to draw up some plans, this’ll be awesome! can you help?”

Of course, because Stretch was incapable of drawing a straight line. Edge looked up at him, hands already twisting together as he bounced on his toes, his eye lights glowing with excitement and his smile nearly as bright.

“Of course I will,” Edge assured him, and allowed Stretch to grab his hand and pull him inside, already talking a mile a minute about counterweights and sling releases.

He cut off the flow of words for a brief moment, stealing a kiss, but not for long. He knew this mood as well as any and Stretch was only getting warmed up.

That was fine by Edge. Stretch’s sulks might be cute, but his delight was irresistible.

-finis-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Please click here to see the BEAUTIFUL art that hj_skb did for this chapter!! ](https://twitter.com/hj_skb/status/1177123349396434945)


	3. Made to Be Broken (mature)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some rules really are made to be broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is M for Mature as there is sexytimes in it!

* * *

When Stretch first moved in with Edge, there had been a lot of expectations about co-habitation. Most of ‘em were reasonable; keep messes at a minimum, rinse dishes in the sink before putting them in the dishwasher, any condiment that leaves the kitchen is no longer allowed back into the kitchen, during the day some form of clothing was a requirement, not a thoughtful possibility. 

Stretch did okay with those and Edge tried not to be a complete dick about them, particularly the whole clothes thing. Hey, so long as he did better than Red, Stretch figured he was doing just fine.

There were a coupla of the rules were obviously added with him in mind. No smoking in the house was ongoing and constant for anyone, but it was a pretty good guess that the one about no sex in the kitchen was probably made special for him.

Course, it had originally been no sex anywhere but the bedroom. Hadn’t taken too much coaxing (and pleading and begging) to get Edge to see the error of his ways on that one. Not when they had a very nice, roomy shower and a sofa. And lots of chairs. And a couple of nice, comfy walls. And on one memorable occasion, the stairs, going up, thanks. That event had been more than worth any of the lingering carpet burns.

Nowadays, Edge was a little bit more relaxed about where he’d chance getting bodily fluids. The only real change was he kept a good variety of cleaning supplies on hand and much as he liked to say Stretch was insatiable, he had a front row seat to how much Edge loved sex. 

Exhibit one was today, when Stretch was minding his own damn business watching tv only for Edge to wander in and sink down by the sofa to promptly put his face into Stretch’s lap. Not in a friendly ‘give me some pets plz’ way either, fuck, no, all hot breath and nuzzling at his pubic arch through his shorts.

Well, okay, yeah, they were doing this now. He took a second to pause his show; never let it be said that Stretch didn’t have his priorities straight, and as much as he liked Masterchef, it wasn't exactly his preferred soundtrack to get down make love. He squirmed a little when Edge didn't do anything, just breathed on him like a dirty phone call. Stretch's voice was already annoyingly breathless as he asked, “need something down there, babe?”

“Yes. I want to taste you. Can I?” Trust Edge to be shamelessly blunt about it. It was barely even obscene but hearing it in that rough, eager voice still made a hot flush of magic rise up in Stretch’s cheekbones. Not like his magic wasn’t already stirred up, settling into his pelvis and leaving his throat with not enough to form words. He managed a few garbled consonants that he hoped indicated a firm 'fuck yeah'.

Seemed like Edge managed to junior jumble a yes out of there somewhere; he was already nudging Stretch’s shorts down with the point of his chin and the way his tongue curled against the bone as it was slowly exposed made Stretch shudder helplessly. 

Hey, if his husband needed to spend a little while going downtown, it was a sacrifice Stretch was willing to make. He was a generous fucker like that. He set one palm on Edge’s forehead, forcing him back enough to let him shimmy out of his shorts before he came in his damn pants. A shiny red thread of magic clung between his pelvis and Edge’s tongue, and Stretch watched dumbly as Edge licked his teeth, breaking that thread and, _fuck_, he looked_ hungry_.

_Hell, yes, what big teeth you have, eat me up, baby, yes. _

Wouldn’t do to give in too easily, though, can't let Edge get used to that, hell to the no. Just to be a brat, he let his cock form instead of a cunt, giving the shaft a lazy stroke before holding it in teasing offering. Edge didn’t even blink, only adjusted accordingly, teeth parting as he let Stretch pull his head down, thrusting into the silky, plush heat of his mouth. That was about all he allowed; Edge took over immediately, bobbing his skull in a tight, precise rhythm that already had Stretch groaning.

Fuck, but his baby was so good at this.

Then again, he had less basis of comparison on that than Edge probably thought. Way back when, back on the golden, olden days, a disproportionate amount of the Monsters he slept with only wanted pussy. Look, he hadn’t exactly been very discerning back then.

It was weirdly comforting that Edge was happy with either, didn’t mind playing with both sets of equipment, and ah, fuck, Stretch couldn’t think anymore. Not with the way Edge’s clever tongue was moving against him, not with the way he swallowed, the way he hummed his own pleasure at having this, the vibration enough to make Stretch’s toes curl. His higher thought functions were done, kaput, couldn't handle the power surge, and he was gonna need a reboot after this. 

He wasn’t usually a minute man, but his spine was starting to tingle in warning, his magic gathering low and Edge was so fucking gorgeous like this, sockets hooded, shading his eye lights, so obviously loving it.

Stretch’s hands were shaking embarrassingly as he settled them on Edge’s skull, fingers scraping against smooth bone as he gasping out urgently, “babe, fuck i…i’m gonna …“

The only reply was sudden, strong suction that dragged a defeated moan from him and Stretch sagged back, jerking with the hot pulse of orgasm. The feel of Edge swallowing around him was almost too much, and he cried out again, trying not to cringe as his pleasure teetered almost into unbearable.

Then Edge let him slip free and the loss of the hot wetness of his mouth was almost as bad. He licked his teeth again and this time his crimson tongue was tainted with remnants of orange.

Stretch could only watch, panting, as Edge moved, all lithe, caged power in his limbs as he crawled up the length of Stretch’s body, and straddled him.

“Thank you,” Edge breathed. His mouth was hot, used, and the sweetness he could taste in that kiss was his own. He didn't mind, let Edge share it with him. 

"yeah, sure," Stretch croaked when he finally drew back. "anytime i can help." There was still a visible bulge at Edge's crotch and he cupped it gently in his hands. "wanna do a favor for me now?"

That he shook his head made Stretch blink, almost hurt, because what the hell? Only, Edge could read him too damn well because his expression softened. He pressed their mouths together again in a gentler kiss.

"Soon," he murmured, stroking the sides of Stretch’s face with long, gloved fingers, “after dinner.”

Ah, the whole savoring the lusty burn approach. Yeah, Stretch was down for that. They shared a few more kisses, each softer than the last and when Edge began to move away, Stretch slyly ran a thumb over that bulge, making Edge grunt. But he didn’t slap his hand away.

“Soon,” he repeated, and slipped free of Stretch’s grabby hands. He went back into the kitchen, leaving Stretch to search for his shorts on his own. They’d gotten kicked under the sofa somehow and he made a mental note to vacuum tomorrow as he shook the dust away.

Then he settled back on the sofa, turning his show back on. The episode had about twenty minutes left and that’d give him a chance to plot. Seemed to him like a good time to challenge the ‘no sex in the kitchen’ rule again.

Really, it was a rule that begged (and pleaded) to be broken.

-finis-


	4. A Moment Before Sleeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exactly what it says on the package.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, I need a little sopping love between these two boys. Today is one of those days.

* * *

It was late when Edge went upstairs, shedding his clothes for pajamas before climbing into the bed he shared with his husband. That was not unusual; he often stayed up far later than Stretch, took care not to wake him as he slipped between the blankets.

Nor was it unusual for Stretch to roll towards him in his sleep, stirring with subconscious instinct, the entire lanky length of him moving as if swimming through the bed linens to tuck against Edge's spine and curl around him like sulky cat. 

Ah, but Stretch wouldn't appreciate that comparison, not about cats.

The room was dark, the curtains drawn, and a fan was running in the corner, offering a faint breeze but plenty of white noise, drowning out the quiet. Edge could still hear Stretch's breathing. His head was heavy on the pillow behind Edge's, denting into the firm cushion, and he was breathing deeply, evenly, well into sleep. It was a known, familiar sound and Edge thought he might be able to recognize the sound of Stretch’s sleeping breath anywhere at all. 

One of his legs was draped over both Edge's, hooking him, along with an arm that was settled over his rib cage. Stretch's limbs were like a cage of their own, holding him in. 

He wouldn't really have been able to see much even if his sockets weren't closed. The moon might be full outside, but the curtains were heavy and room-darkening, chosen for a skeleton who took naps at odd times of day, and the glow from their eye lights wasn't enough to illuminate much. It didn't matter. He didn't really need to see to know what Stretch looked like. 

Relaxed in sleep, his bones would be more pearl than ivory against their navy sheets, his joints glowing ever so faintly with his magic, closer to a honeyed peach than a true orange. They'd had sex earlier and the smell was still in the air, the sweetness of Stretch's magic tangled up in the spice of his own as it faded. Stretch never wore pajamas, but he burrowed into the blankets every night no matter what the temperature outside. He didn't always sleep curled up against Edge, but it was more often than not, turning towards his warmth. 

Tonight, spooned up against Edge, he made snuffling, sleepy sounds as he surrounded him with love and limbs. Edge followed the arm that was draped over him down to Stretch’s hand, wove those delicate fingers between his own gloved ones. Sleep was starting to beckon, slyly offering, but Edge ignored it for the moment. 

He wanted to feel Stretch breathing against him, for a little longer. 

-finis-


	5. Oh, Applesauce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something is up with Stretch and Edge isn’t sure what. But he’s going to find out.

* * *

When Edge came home that day, he found Stretch sprawled on the sofa, curled around one of the throw pillows.

“hey, babe.” He didn’t look up from the television screen. That his afternoon greeting was less than enthusiastic didn’t quite hurt, but neither was it a pleasure.

“Hello,” Edge offered as he hung up his jacket. He discreetly looked Stretch over, but he didn’t seem like he was having an off day. The blanket was still draped neatly over the back of the sofa and his eye lights were sharp. Perhaps appearances were deceiving, in this case.

He started to sit at Stretch’s feet, ready to settle them into his lap and rub the delicate bones while he carefully probed for information. But before he could, Stretch spoke up, “could you get me a drink?”

Again, that seemed…odd. Not that he asked for something, that was a daily event, but that there was no wheedling or exaggerated begging. Usually Stretch made asking an elaborate event and this time it simply…was.

“Of course,” Edge said, slowly, “did you want tea or—”

“water’s fine.”

Now irritation was starting to prickle and Edge couldn’t help feeling faintly wounded. He liked bringing Stretch things, loved to care for him, but usually he was appreciative and, well, if not mannerly at least amusing. That he didn’t even look away from the television stung.

Edge mentally shook away his hurt; obviously something was wrong, and if he played along, perhaps he’d discover what. He went to the kitchen, trying not to puzzle too hard over his husband’s strange attitude, but he stopped in the open door, blinking at the countertop.

There were a several boxes in a variety of sizes stacked up, most of them with the words Ball Canning Supplies on the side. They were jars, he realized, along with a home canning kit, a much smaller box of paraffin wax, and at the very end was a bushel basket filled with apples.

“surprise?” 

Edge turned to see Stretch standing behind him, his smile sheepish. He raised a brow bone and Stretch grimaced. 

“or maybe not? sorry ‘bout earlier, if i’d looked at you i wouldn’t have been able to keep a straight face.” He slithered past Edge, one hand sneaking a quick grope of his hipbone, and went over to poke one of the boxes thoughtfully. “gotta say, not sure if it’s a gift or just me making more work for you but red was telling me that you used to do a lot of canning back in the day.”

“I did.” The supplies had been difficult to come by for it and he’d hoarded them voraciously. Anything he could can, he did, preserving any scraps for days when food was harder to come by. The sight of those small jewel-toned jars all neatly lined up and labeled had been incredibly soothing, satisfying a need in his soul. It hadn’t always been the best tasting meals, but food was food and he’d done his best to provide. 

Stretch nodded, “well, i wasn’t sure if it was necessity or if you actually liked it, but, i thought maybe you’d want to try it again? i even set up some shelves in the basement if you want?”

His expression was so earnestly uncertain, and hopeful, an almost silent plea of ‘did I do good?’

“Thank you,” Edge said, sincerely. He crowded Stretch back against the countertop, watched as his uncertainty flared into happiness before he stole a kiss. Stretch sighed softly against his mouth and the slim bones of his hands were cool as they cupped Edge’s face, stroking gently.

His smile as he drew away tempted for another kiss, but Edge hesitated as Stretch told him, “yeah, well, the apples aren’t from me, they’re from red. he said something about missing your applesauce.”

“Did he really?” Edge didn't bother to hide the faint wistfulness in his voice. Not from Stretch, who only smiled gently.

“he really did.”

Well, applesauce was easily managed, and from the amount of apples, he’d probably end up using most of these jars. It was too late today to start, and instead Edge caught hold of his husband, ignoring his yelp of surprise as he lifted him up, arms supporting under his pelvis as Stretch wrapped legs and arms around him.

“okay, yeah, you really like it,” Stretch laughed.

_I really like you_, Edge couldn’t say, his mouth caught up in another kiss. 

That was all right, Stretch already knew it. But maybe a few jars of honey cinnamon applesauce would be a good reminder. 

-finis- 


	6. Bedside Manners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge has a particular way he likes to do things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is probably no domestic chore that these two could do together that wouldn’t make me sigh happily. This might be proof.

* * *

Saturdays were Edge’s unofficial baking day, but Sunday was the day he used to catch up on housework. 

Stretch usually did a fairly good job of keeping the house in order during the week, barring any depressive times, and Edge hadn’t a single complaint about his efforts. 

But when it came to scrubbing the bathroom or washing windows, he preferred to do it himself. His standards were exacting and it was generally better to handle it on his own than subject anyone to his critical eye.

He also changed the sheets on Sundays, theirs as well as the guest room even if it hadn’t been used. Clean sheets were a pleasure he would never take for granted, being able to slip between them Sunday night, inhaling the freshness of the linens.

Today he was stripped the bed, bundling the old linens to the side before he shook out the ground sheet when a question surprised him.

“d’you need a hand?”

Edge glanced up to see Stretch poking his head in the door. He hesitated, sheet in hand. If he said no, Stretch wouldn’t be offended. He was well aware of Edge’s quirks and Sunday was usually the only time Edge had the opportunity to make the bed to his standards. There was something soothing in perfection, in having the bed pristinely made or his action figures carefully dusted and precisely placed on a shelf. Stretch would only nod and head back downstairs, and it would be forgotten.

But if he let Stretch help him, he’d come into the room, be closer. One need weighed against another.

“Yes, I would,” Edge decided. He ignored Stretch’s surprise and held out the end of the sheet, brow bone raised.

Stretch recovered quickly and shuffled in to take hold. Between them, they shook out any wrinkles and pulled the sheet taut over the mattress. Then it was simply a matter of properly tucking in the corners. Edge despised the so-called convenience of fitted sheets. Ridiculous invention that was impossible to fold. A standard sheet worked perfectly well with properly folded corners. Edge tucked in the last fold on his side before glancing over to see how Stretch was doing.

To call his efforts a success would be a gross exaggeration. He was obviously trying, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth as he attempted to tuck and fold the sheet corner. But neither the fabric nor his fingers seemed to be cooperating and what he ended up with was less a hospital corner and more an injury. 

Stretch sat back on his heels with a grimace and in a moment, he’d likely back off and let Edge redo it. 

It was only a minor thing, really, a brush of unhappiness in passing and it would be forgotten in minutes. 

But he hated seeing even a hint of it lingering in his husband’s eye lights.

Instead of fixing the sheet, Edge rounded the bed to step in close, catching hold of Stretch’s hips in both hands and tugging. Off-balance, he staggered forward into Edge, both of them toppling lightly onto the sheet. Stretch’s confusion shifted to glee as Edge rolled them until Stretch was on top, straddling him.

“oh, i see how it is,” Stretch laughed. He settled in, wriggling teasingly before leaning down on his elbows to steal a kiss. One that Edge returned readily, wrapping his arms around Stretch and holding him tight.

The best thing about a made bed, after all, was the chance to mess it up again.

-finis-


	7. Turning Circles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sure I’m not the only person whose brain sometimes refuses to shut up. Seems like the same problem could plague anyone, even someone who technically doesn’t have a brain.

* * *

He’d known it wasn’t a good day the moment Edge got home from work. To begin with, there was a basket of unfolded towels sitting on the sofa, with no sign of Stretch. A quick look found him out back with the chickens, sitting in a chair rather than down on the ground with them to offer pets.

Stretch was slouched in the patio chair, his head tipped back and his sockets closed. Almost, Edge stepped outside, but he hesitated. Stretch and the Sanses shared a unique ability to sleep whenever and wherever they could, with little regard to laws of physics, and if he were taking a quick nap, Edge didn’t want to wake him. The smudges beneath his sockets spoke of a restless night.

Instead, he went upstairs to shower and change before starting dinner. That would give Stretch a decent amount of time to nap and perhaps he’d be up for watching the new episodes of the Great British Baking Show after they ate. Something low key and soothing, that would allow him to drift off again if he needed more rest in-between bouts of both cursing and admiring the assessments of Paul Hollywood against the bakers.

His strategy was ruined before it’d barely begun. When he came back downstairs, Stretch was inside and on the sofa, working his way through the basket of towels and folding with the sort of grim determination usually reserved for marches through deserts.

“Here, let me help.” Edge started to reach for a towel.

“don’t you dare,” Stretch snapped. The stains of the exhaustion beneath his sockets were still starkly obvious. “i can do this."

Edge sighed inwardly. Where he’d gotten a bug up his pelvis about chores, Edge did not know, but lately, Stretch was doing more than normal, more than Edge ever expected from him. To have him here so obviously in need of a better nap, stubbornly trying to fold some blasted towels was bewildering. “Love, you don't need to--"

"i said i can do this!"

“Of course you can, but you don’t need to!” Edge clicked his teeth shut before anything else could escape, breathing through his annoyance. Stretch was only sitting on the sofa, an unfolded towel in his lap and his head ducked low. Edge sighed and sat down next to him. Instead of pulling Stretch into his arms, he folded them over his chest and said with well-earned calm, “Talk to me. What’s this about?”

Next to him, Stretch shifted until their femurs were pressed lightly together. “i just…you work really hard.”

“And?”

“and i don’t! i’m here all day, i can help out more.” 

“I won’t argue that with you,” Edge said, “What I’d like to know is what’s bringing this on now? Have I done something to make you think I’m dissatisfied with how many chores you do in a day?”

Stretch flopped back against the sofa, his legs stretched out in front of him a loose sprawl. He leaned harder against Edge, his skull tipping to rest on Edge’s shoulder. His voice was small as he admitted, “no.”

“Then why?”

He only shrugged. “i dunno. guess i just started thinking about it and couldn’t stop.”

That he could believe. Stretch had an incredibly clever mind and it was always moving, flitting from one thing to the next the same way Stretch often wove his lighter through his fingers. But for all its brilliance, his thoughts weren’t always useful or beneficial, especially not to Stretch.

Edge reached up and gently rested his hand on Stretch’s skull where it was tucked against his shoulder. Traced the broad lines of his coronal sutures, cupped where all those thoughts, the good and the self-doubting, were hidden away. “All right, then. This might not make a difference, but I’d like to go on record as saying you’ve always done perfectly fine at keeping the house in order. And I know you hate to hear this, but you are still recovering. Be a little kinder to yourself, if you can.”

“okay.” There was no clear intonation to that single word, no hint as to what Stretch was thinking.

It would be foolhardy to assume this was the end of it, but it seemed to be the end for this night. Stretch didn’t so much as ask before he nudged the laundry basket to the floor, nearly toppling it over, and moved to snuggle into Edge’s lap. That he was so assured of his welcome even if they’d argued was warming. He was asleep in moments, snoring faintly in the way he only did when he was drunk or truly exhausted.

_Rest well, my love_, Edge didn’t say the words aloud, but Stretch shifted slightly in his lap with a sigh and he fancied that perhaps if Stretch didn’t hear them in his head, he could hear them in his soul.

Then he mentally reared back with a faint snort, banishing such ridiculousness. He adored Stretch with all his being, but there were limits. Either way, if he was sleeping, then his troublesome thoughts would quiet, for at least a while. 

The remote was on the side table and Edge turned on the television, keeping the volume low while Stretch got some much-needed rest.

Dinner could wait.

-finis-


	8. Egg-scape Artist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Edge decided to get Stretch chickens as pets, this was not a problem he expected.

* * *

His alarm hadn’t gone off yet, but Edge was already mostly awake, hanging in that gray space of waiting. Not that he wasn’t willing to get up, but the bed was warm and Stretch was snuggled up against him, clinging like a lovable burr and more on top of him than not. 

It was worth waking a little early to get an extra moment to hold him.

Hardly a minute passed when he heard a strange sound, perhaps the very one that woke him. Peculiar and unknown through the white noise of the fan. Edge called up his magic, but kept a tight hold on it, wary of any possibility. But what he saw when he opened his sockets defied all logic.

Settled at the foot of their bed, her black feathers almost hidden in the dark room, was Nugget. Her low clucking, the sound he’d heard, was steadily growing in volume.

Edge stared for a long moment, disbelief warring with what his eye lights were telling him. This required secondary confirmation and he gave Stretch a firm nudge. “Rus.”

The grumbling sound Stretch made almost, but not quite, overshadowed Nugget’s chirring. He leaned up on an elbow that dug painfully into Edge’s rib cage and mumbled, “hummazat?”

“Rus, look down.”

From the way Stretch blinked owlishly, his eye lights wide and diffused, it was taking a bit for the words to filter through. Eventually they clicked and as he tipped his head downward, Nugget let out a loud cackle. She stood, revealing a small, perfect egg, ghostly pale in the dark of the room.

Stretch slowly sat up, the blanket sagging and his hands flopping down between his spread legs. He blinked slowly, watching as Nugget proudly cackled her success to them. “huh. this is a new dream. this is way better than the one where i’m standing around in a shower curtain and everyone starts throwing olives at me.”

“Not a dream,” Edge told him, dryly. He leaned down enough to pick up the egg. It was still warm.

“this is absolutely a dream,” Stretch insisted. He pointed an accusing finger at Nugget, who only settled happily back onto the comforter. “if i roll over right now and pull the blanket over my head, in the morning this will all be gone. poof!”

“The only way that is going to be true is if you get up and take your troublemaker back to the coop while I figure out how she got in here. Otherwise, you might be finding out what kind of bed companion she is when I go to work.”

Stretch groaned. “fine, fine.” He slid out of the bed, joints popping as he arched his back before stumbling over to his bathrobe. “how does she keep getting out? and how did she get in? where did you get these birds, harry potter’s chamber of poultry?”

“No, it was from Harry Houdini and his bag of chicks,” Edge told him as he changed out of his pajamas. 

“good one.” The snicker he got was still sleepy but appreciative. The clucking that came afterward was less so and Stretch still didn’t seem quite steady on his feet as he wobbled out, unhappy chicken in hand. 

Edge was downstairs inspecting the house when he shortcutted back in, yawning out, “anything?”

“Not a thing.” It was unnerving, especially if you took away the fact that he wasn’t keen on his bed being used as a secondary nest, even if he did appreciate the eggs.

“face it, you found the chicken equivalent of a wizard. maybe a witch?” Stretch grinned. “she does seem to find you be-_witching_.”

Edge made a rude sound. “Be that as it may, I think we need to dis-_spell_ that notion. She needs to stop_ wand-_dering off.”

Not his best effort, but it was worth it to see the comical dismay on Stretch’s face, his smile dropping so quickly Edge could nearly hear the crash. “you brat. always when i don’t have my phone!”

Stretch sulkily accepted a commiserating kiss before flopping down on the sofa. He limply flapped a dismissive hand at Edge. “go to work, i’ll look around more later. we’ll figure it out.”

“You do have more experience than me getting into places you shouldn’t be.” Edge pulled the blanket off the sofa back and tucked it around Stretch, pressing a light kiss to the top of his skull and murmured, “Get some more sleep, love.”

But he looked out the back door at the coop before he left, eye lights narrowed. Nugget was pecking around peacefully, for all the world a simple chicken and not a pugnacious poultry escapist.

They would figure it out. Until then, they would need to keep a close eye on their little trickster so she would remain properly penned despite her knack for escape, for several reasons.

For one, if he let a chicken outmatch him in a battle of wits, his brother would never let him forget it.

-finis-


	9. If I Were Brave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not exactly an emergency, but Edge knows how to handle it, anyway.

* * *

"Mister Edge Sir!"

The child, Janice’s son, Oscar, was panting as he ran up, his long ears bobbing. Edge was barely out of his car, briefcase in hand as he turned towards the sound of his name. 

"What's wrong?" Edge asked immediately. His hackles rose, magic coming hotly to the fore. The attack from those Humans was not so long ago that the children would have forgotten it, and if he’d seen something—

But there was no terror in Oscar’s face, only worry. He took a hitched breath, swiping his sleeve across his running nose. “Toby fell and he’s hurt!”

Toby was one of the children who often came on the weekends for Stretch’s ‘experiments’, one of the older children, like Oscar, and firmly classified as one of the minions. 

“Take me to him,” Edge commanded. He left his briefcase leaning against the wheel well and followed behind. 

He was forced to shorten his stride to match Oscar’s run, but they didn’t need to go far. Around the corner was a group of children all standing around Toby, who was crying loudly. His skinned knees were the only obvious injury, the culprit seemed to be the discarded bicycle laying on the sidewalk. 

Edge crouched, inspecting the injuries carefully. He wasn’t overly familiar with the wounds of fleshy creatures, but the blood was only oozing and they didn’t appear deep. There were faint scrapes on the child’s hands, but no head injury, nothing that seemed to be urgent. Chances were a few bandages and perhaps a treat to stifle those tears would be enough. But what was the point of having magic and not using it? Monsters were getting into the habit of holding back Aboveground, wary of Human reactions. Hardly a necessary caution in New New Home and besides, it would take a while for even scrapes to heal. There was no reason to let a child suffer, even for a minor injury. 

“Oscar,” Edge said calmly. The child stepped up, bouncing on his toes anxiously. “Please run back to my house to get Stretch. He’s better at healing than I am. Don’t trip and fall yourself, Toby is going to be all right.”

That was as much for the weeping child as for Oscar, who nodded so rapidly his ears flopped across his face. He shoved them back impatiently and dashed away while Toby sniveled, looking up at Edge with wet eyes, tears dampening his short fur. 

“You’re going to be fine,” Edge repeated. He pulled a clean handkerchief from his pocket, and dabbed lightly at one knee. The clean white lawn blossomed crimson, and he held it there despite Toby’s wince. His tears were slowing into little hiccoughs. “There you go,” Edge told him encouragingly, “You’re being very brave.”

“He’s cryin’.” From one of the other children. Edge glanced at them and it didn’t seem to be an insult so much as a worried observation. The other children were watching him closely, including Toby, who was scrubbing at his cheeks with the back of one hand. 

“Well, it hurts,” Edge said reasonably. “Even a Royal Guard can cry when it hurts. But he’s very brave to let me look at it and to wait while Oscar got help, don’t you think?”

All the children nodded fervently, likely remembering past times when they’d had to exhibit such bravery. Before there were any other observations, a loud pop made all the children jump. Stretch and Oscar appeared almost on top of the discarded bicycle and wouldn’t that have been a tangle. But Stretch was already clucking his tongue in dismay, crouching next to Edge and tugging away the handkerchief. Edge was amused to see he was in his stocking feet. He supposed he should be grateful it wasn’t a bathrobe.

“ouch, buddy, that’s rough!” Stretch fretted. He set his thin fingers just over the wounds. “hold still, okay, this’ll feel really warm.”

“He’ll be fine,” Edge said firmly. He took one of Toby’s hands in his own and the child nodded, his little chin barely quivering as the green glow of healing shone from Stretch’s hands. When he lifted them, the scrapes were gone, leaving only pink, healing skin behind. A quick glance at his hands confirmed that those scrapes weren’t worth bothering with and Toby was soon on his feet. 

“Thank you, Mister Papyrus Stretch Sir,” Toby said, a touch shyly. He shuffled his feet in embarrassment, peeking out from under his lashes.

Stretch grinned and reached out to ruffle Toby’s ears, “seriously, kiddos, just stretch is fine.”

“I, on the other hand, am perfectly happy with my title of Mister Edge Sir,” Edge told them gravely. He tucked the stained hankie into his pocket with a grimace and a mental promise to soak it. He considered the contents of his kitchen and added, “Now, how does everyone feel about cookies?”

A chorus of cheers rose up from the collected minions. Stretch grimaced and held up one foot, showing off a bright green sock with dinosaurs scattered across it. They appeared to be wearing cowboy hats. “i’ll meet you guys there, rocks and my feet? not good friends.”

“No need,” Edge said breezily, and before Stretch could vanish, he scooped him up and started striding towards home, ignoring his squawks as the children’s giggles rose behind them.

“bridal style? you shit,” Stretch grumbled, too low for little ears to hear. “You could have at least gone for piggyback.” 

“Or I could have thrown you over my shoulder,” Edge told him. Stretch laughed softly. 

“i would have enjoyed the view,” Stretch murmured. He slipped his hands around Edge’s neck, snuggling into his arms. 

“They’re getting gooshy.” Came a low mutter from behind. A few wordless grumbles combined with a couple of titters was the only response. 

Stretch’s head jerked up like a prairie dog and he glared over Edge’s shoulder. “what? this ain’t goosh, this is practical! edge can’t teleport like i can, so he has to play pack mule, instead.”

“But you could take him,” Oscar pointed out. The traitor. “You do with us.”

“yeah, but when edge teleports he—eep!”

“Yes, here we are,” Edge said loudly, even as he dropped Stretch lightly on the grass, cutting him off mid-word. His husband rolled to his feet with a snicker, dusting off his clothes. 

“But what does Edge do when he teleports?” Piped up one of the other children. A half-dozen curious gazes stared up, up at them both, waiting for answers. 

“tell you what, why don’t we have some cookies, yeah?” Stretch grinned. He minced across to the sidewalk in his stocking feet and into the house as Edge retrieved his briefcase to take inside. In no time, every child had three cookies, no more, no less, happily munching. 

Edge sat on the porch steps with a cookie of his own, chocolate chip and delicious despite its simplicity. His curiosity rose as Toby sat next to him, one cookie already consumed and a second halfway done. 

“It’s okay if you don’t like teleporting, Mister Edge Sir,” Toby told him, quietly earnest. “You’re still really brave!”

“Thank you,” Edge said gravely. Gingerly, he reached out and tousled the child’s ears with gloved fingertips, the same as Stretch had earlier. Toby scooted a little closer to him, leaning against him, and Edge let him, only finished his own cookie. 

When he glanced up, he saw Stretch watching him from his spot on the lawn with the other children, and his smile was lopsided and soft.

_Love you_, he signed, and Edge returned the gesture. Soon the children would be off to play again, perhaps to add another skinned knee or two to the collection. For now, there were cookies and calm, and it wasn’t a bad way to end the afternoon. 

-finis


	10. At An Angle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge and Stretch haven’t been dating long and it’s been...interesting. They’re working it out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of drabbles lately, sorry, I’ve been feeling crummy. I’ll get back to the longer stuff soon. :(
> 
> This one is set in the past when Edge and Stretch first started dating. It was rocky going at first!

* * *

The thing was, Edge still wasn’t quite sure how to do this. He and Stretch had been dating for a couple of months now, and every time at the start it was a little like feeling his way through the dark for a light switch, until finally it clicked on and then everything would be fine. 

Still, it seemed to Edge that they were finding that switch faster every time, spent less time awkwardly fumbling in the dark. He wasn’t sure about this, any of this, wasn’t a friend of uncertainty, but he couldn’t deny Stretch made him feel things that he couldn’t quite name.

Answers were coming, Edge thought, now he only needed to figure out all the questions.

Tonight they were having a movie night, just the two of them, at Edge’s house since it was more private, with a firm warning to all brothers that any ‘dropping in’ was strictly forbidden. Or at least that was how Blue heard it. The words Edge used to banish Red had been punctuated with swearing and a firm ‘stay the fuck away!’ 

It might well be enough. Might.

There were snacks in the table, a variety of movies carefully chosen and Edge was putting the first disk in when Stretch spoke up behind him.  
  
“brrr, i’m cold,” Stretch complained. He was sitting on the couch, arms wrapped around himself in a sort of mock shiver.  
  
That made Edge frown. The house was set to the same temperature as always and it felt perfectly fine to him. He reached out to press a hand to Stretch’s forehead testingly, but he didn’t seem overly warm or cool.  
  
Well, he was the host and if his guest said he was cold, it was a problem easily managed. Edge stood and said, “Stay here.”  
  
He went upstairs, aware of Stretch’s bewildered look, but it was simply faster to retrieve a blanket than to explain. There were several folded in the linen closet and he chose the largest and fluffiest of them, carrying it back downstairs with him.  
  
Stretch sat mutely while Edge tucked the blanket around him, making sure that there were no gaps where a chill could sneak through and arranging it so a flap covered Stretch’s skull like a hood. Satisfied, he stepped back to admire his work. “Is that better?”  
  
“kinda,” Stretch said with obvious bemusement. “um. you know i was angling for a hug, right?”  
  
Edge blinked down at him. A corner of the blanket was hanging over one of Stretch’s sockets like the floppy ear of a puppy. “Why didn’t you say that?”  
  
It was embarrassingly obvious in retrospect. He’d been so caught up in solving the problem, he hadn’t even noticed the sly invitation for what it was. Once, that would have left an opening for mocking, only a few months ago. But it didn’t feel like Stretch was making fun when he said, sincerely, “would you throw an arm around me and keep me warm while we watch the movie?”  
  
“I…” Edge swallowed against a sudden thickness in his throat. Because Stretch was asking to be held and suddenly there was nothing Edge wanted to do more. “Yes, of course.”  
  
It was easy to sit next to him, let Stretch wriggle from his mummification enough to spread the blanket over both their laps. He curled against Edge’s side without a qualm, squirming until he was comfortable. Cautiously, Edge settled his arm around Stretch’s slim shoulders, curving his hand around his upper arm to hold him close, and Stretch only sighed, settling his skull on Edge’s shoulder even though that meant he was watching the movie a little sideways.  
  
Beneath the blanket was decadently warm; his high HP meant he ran hotter than most Monsters. Warm, yes, but not unpleasantly so. Stretch’s light weight leaning against him was another unexpected pleasure to be learned and Edge pulled him in a little tighter, basking in it.  
  
It was nice. Certainly his soul seemed to think so, pulsing once, soft as a summer breeze. They did nothing more than watch the movie together, the snacks on the table sat untouched. Or at least Stretch watched the movie; Edge couldn’t have said a thing about the plot as the credits rolled. His attention was on the line of warmth that was Stretch leaning against him, listening to his breathing, his soft chuckles at whatever was on the screen. He didn’t ask before starting another movie, only leaned forward to press the button and then right back to where Stretch could settle against him again.  
  
After that, the blanket was always on the back of the sofa, waiting for its chance. Movie nights always seemed to be extra chilly whenever Stretch was over.

-finis-


	11. A Fur-midable Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honestly, Edge is past being surprised at what he finds when he comes home from work, but this was a rare exception.

* * *

There were plenty of ways Edge was accustomed to being greeted when he got home. It varied from Stretch throwing himself into Edge’s arms from the porch and nearly sending them both toppling to the ground to finding him curled up on the sofa, slack with silent depression and even some days not at all, if Stretch was absorbed in his lab work.

To walk in and find him crammed into a corner of the sofa, clutching one of the pillows to his chest was not on his list. Eye lights too-large in his sockets and his expression a twisted rictus.

Edge dropped his briefcase, heedless of the muffled thump as it hit the carpet. He scanned the room automatically for any kind of threat before going to him in quick strides.

“What is it, what’s wrong?” Edge demanded.

Stretch twitched, almost as if Edge startled him. He closed his sockets, swallowed hard and managed a low whisper, “it’s in the kitchen.”

He couldn’t begin to guess what had Stretch so fearful, but he didn’t try to stop Edge as he went cautiously to the door. It was a swinging door and couldn’t possibly have held back a credible threat, and yet. He drew up his magic, readying an attack, then pushed open the door.

At first glance there was nothing to see. A single coffee cup in the dish drainer, the countertops wiped and gleaming. But on the floor Edge saw a squat, opened can and he slowly approached it, sockets narrowed.

That was when he heard it.

The tiny patter of feet rounding the corner, followed by an inquisitive, ‘mrrrr?’. A tabby kitten came dashing over to his shoes, eagerly attacking one of the laces.

Edge crouched, petting the soft fur and a rumbling purr began. The little creature was thin and rather dirty for a cat. His first thought was to wonder how in the name of the Angel a kitten found a way into their house, but then he glanced at the empty tuna can thoughtfully.

The kitten meowed pitifully as Edge walked back out, but he ignored it, going back to sit with Stretch. He gently loosened one of his hands from its death grip on the pillow, holding it in his own, “what happened?”

“i couldn’t leave it!” Stretch burst out. “i saw it at the bus stop and it was all alone! it could’ve wandered into traffic, got hit by a car. so i stuck it in my hoodie pocket and snuck it on the bus and—“ he broke off on a shudder and shook his head. Tears threatened at the corners of his sockets, pale orange gleaming.

It was very easy to picture Stretch carrying the kitten on the bus, forcing down his fears and bringing it here. A twenty minute ride struggling with his panic and yet, he’d even managing to feed it before having to flee.

Despite everything, he’d saved a kitten. How was it that Stretch ever struggled to see how wonderful he was?

“it can’t stay.” Stretch said abruptly. “it cant, i’m sorry, i can’t do it yet.”

“Of course not, shhh, it’s all right, it isn’t staying,” Edge soothed. He cupped Stretch’s face with his free hand, stroking the line of his cheekbone with his thumb as he teased softly, “How could we ever explain it to the chickens?”

Edge was fond of cats himself, but he would never even suggest keeping one, not anymore than Stretch would bring home a pet tarantula. 

Whatever panic was keeping Stretch from realizing that on his own seemed to clear a little. He nodded jerkily. “yeah, okay, that’s true. the ladies contribution to nutrition is eggs only.”

“Exactly. Let me take it someplace else, all right? It’ll be safe, but not here.”

Stretch nodded, calmer, “okay.”

He leaned in to press a soft kiss against Stretch’s temple, then went to deal with the furry little problem.

The kitten let out a string of displeased meows when he came back in. Edge carefully scooped it up and it promptly attached itself to his sleeve, tiny claws digging in. He kept it close, concealed as best he could as he walked out and went straight outside.

Once there, he hesitated on the porch, petting the kitten to calm it as he considered. There were several destinations to choose from and he mentally considered and discarded a few before settling on a likely option. It was longer to walk, but he didn’t want to attempt driving with a kitten clinging to him. 

When he arrived, the kitten was yowling to be let down, needle-sharp claws pricking at bone. Edge walked through the overgrown grass to the porch and knocked firmly. The rare shock on his brother’s face was an exquisite treat and Edge savored it.

Red stared a long moment then finally said, “is that a fucking cat?”

“It is. I need you to keep it for a few days.” He didn’t wait for an answer, hastily set the kitten down and it scampered immediately through the door, chasing a balled up fast food wrapper on the floor.

“wha—i can’t watch a fucking cat!” Red spluttered, “take it to blue or papyrus!”

“Blue and Papyrus regularly host movie nights and family events, and if they had a cat, Stretch wouldn’t be able to come over. You, on the other hand, are vanishingly unlikely to ever invite anyone over for Monopoly.”

“not any of you fuckers, for sure, i know what happened last time you played. i ain’t replacing my fire extinguisher every weekend—“

“In any case,” Edge interrupted, “it’s only for a few days until I find a home for it.”

Red sucked loudly on his teeth, looking as if he’d bitten into something sour. He turned to glare at the kitten who was now enthusiastically using its claws on the side of the sofa.

“coupla days,” Red groused and Edge bit back a smile; he knew his brother so very well. Red poked a sharp finger into Edge’s chest, making him grunt, “you either come back for it, or i pitch it outside. clear?”

“Crystal,” Edge agreed. The door closed sharply in his face, but it wasn’t as if he’d expected his brother to be gracious. He went home, most of his thoughts focused on helping Stretch deal with this nasty bout of trauma, but still with an absent intention of finding a home for the kitten.

Two days later, he hadn’t had any success, but a text from his brother put an end to his search.

_you can forget taking the little shit. ozymandias is staying_

_I’ll make Stretch aware_, Edge sent back. It wasn’t like he wanted Stretch visiting his brother very often, anyway. He loved his brother, but like so many things, he was best in small doses.

And if anyone at the Embassy noticed an increase of cat hair on Red’s clothing, no one was brave enough to mention it.

-finis-


	12. Ancient Rituals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s very important to keep up traditions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it’s my birthday! But much like Hobbits, I like to share my presents!
> 
> I was craving something soft and sweet, with autumn and traditions and our boys in love. So here we go!

* * *

From the first year they came to the surface, Edge believed there was something different about fall. There was nothing like it in the Underground, his world went from the wintry chill of Snowdin to the heavy mugginess of Waterfall into the baking heat of Hotland. 

Autumn was for the Aboveground, and there was something about it. Something different in the air, perhaps, a crispness from the falling leaves that brought to mind cool nights and warm apple cider.

Normally he jogged in the mornings, but sometimes in the fall he went for an extra run in the afternoon. Sunshine filtering through the trees and leaves crunching beneath his running shoes. The breeze cooled the sweat rising on his bones and in the distance, he could hear the laughter of children playing, safe and happy in their little part of the world.

All the makings of a beautiful day.

Some of his serenity was lost to suspicion as he rounded the corner and headed back to their house. In the front yard there was a massive pile of leaves, a messy sprawl of golds, browns, and orange where none had been before.

Edge knew a trap when he saw one. 

Warily, he approached, wondering idly how many shortcuts it had taken to get such an enormous pile. Too many, surely, what was his husband up to?

When the attack came, it was from behind.

"babe!" 

It was the only warning he got, but it was enough. When the entirety of his husband smacked into him, Edge rolled with it, down into the leaves. It made for a cushiony if crunchy landing and they wrestled through it, scattering them everywhere in a tumble of limbs and laughter.

They came to a stop with Stretch on top, his light weight pinning Edge into the dilapidated pile.

"hi,” Stretch grinned down at him. A leaf fluttered down from seemingly nowhere and settled delicately on top of his skull. 

"Hi, yourself." Edge settled his hands on Stretch’s hips. “Is there a reason behind this entirely unwarranted betrayal?”

“betrayal?” Stretch gasped in mock indignation. “i’ll have you know that jumping into leaf piles is an ancient tradition that helps guarantee a good harvest and a mild winter!”

Stretch was always a font of information, but Edge was smelling a fair amount of bullshit along with the brightness of leaves. “Is that so?” Stretch nodded with such exaggerated enthusiasm that Edge had to fight back a smile to add gravely, “Far be it from me to deny the ancient rituals.”

His grin widened and Stretch leaned down, nuzzling their nasal bones together. "i love you so much."

“I suppose I must love you, too,” Edge kissed him softly. “Since I save all my ritualizing for you.”

They shared another soft kiss before the uneasy sensation of being watched filtered through. Stretch must’ve felt it as well and they turned their heads as one to see Janice on the sidewalk with her sons. To her credit, she was trying to tug them along but both children stood like statues as they gawked.

Instantly, Stretch scrambled off of Edge, his cheekbones flaming as orange as the leaves around them. Edge only sat up, refusing to be embarrassed for a simple kiss.

“Janice.” Edge nodded formally at her.

“Edge. Stretch,” she replied in the same even tone, but a hint of a smile was curving her mouth. “Edge, I’ll see you at the office Monday.”

“Of course,” Edge agreed politely and she took both her boys firmly by the hand and pulled them along. The sound of their giggles floated back until they were out of sight.

When Edge turned back to Stretch, he was sitting in the leaves and his expression was uncertain, “sorry, i didn’t mean to—“

Edge didn’t let him finish, tackling him back down into the leaves and soon enough he was laughing again, both of them fighting to gain the upper hand as the leaves crunched and flew up around him.

Perhaps it wasn’t a real tradition, but there was no point in taking chances, was there? Edge would make certain that he and Stretch did their part to ensure a good harvest, no matter how many leaves or kisses it took.

-finis-


	13. Not the End of the World

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not the end of the world as Stretch knows it. Probably.

* * *

It might well be a sign of an upcoming apocalypse or maybe a garden variety catastrophe, but it was the weekend and Edge wasn’t in the kitchen. He wasn’t cleaning either, tromping around the house getting everything into his version of order. 

For once, he was out in the yard and it wasn’t to mow the grass or rake leaves or ready his plants for the coming winter. Edge was curled up on the porch swing, his legs stretched out across the bench and a fuzzy blanket on his lap. He was reading, of all things, probably some boring shit about political negotiation wrangling, but maybe a puzzle book, and he was actually wearing his glasses for once. Half the time he forgot them until he was squinting at his laptop screen and verging on a headache. The little round lenses made him look like Harry Potter in his much later years, hell, he even had a scar. 

Aside from an episode or two of a Netflix show, Edge wasn’t much for sitting still on the weekends, or, well, anytime, to be honest. To see him outside, settled in with a book and a blanket was like waking up into opposite day. It was a really nice day, though, sunlight dappling through the leaves that were still on the tree, turning them golden and scarlet. The chickens were wandering through the yard, searching out tasty insects, and all in all, it was a scene of homey comfort. 

And damn if Stretch didn’t want to get in on it. 

Anytime Stretch was outside, Edge always brought him a drink or a snack, so it only seemed fair to return the favor. Stretch wasn’t ready to try on a chef’s hat or anything, but he could probably manage a drink. Something hot, it was a chilly outside. 

Coffee would be easiest, but ehhhhhh. For starters, Edge sank enough caffeine into his marrow on any given day to jumpstart a blue whale, and if he was allowed to bitch about cigarettes then Stretch had grumping rights about the coffee. Besides, it didn’t really suit the theme of a day. A glance into the fridge found a bottle of apple cider and that seemed to go better with falling leaves and plaid blankets. 

It didn’t take long to warm it on the stove, and Stretch even tossed in a cinnamon stick the way Blue always used to. When it was hot, he carefully poured it into a mug, only spilling a little, then carried the steaming cup out in both hands for maximum safety. 

Edge glanced up when the door opened, watching with both brow bones raised as Stretch tried to balance the mug along with closing the door with fair success. Then he had to navigate around the ladies who dashed over to put themselves right underfoot like a flock of feathered attempted murderers. 

But he shuffled his way over without slopping much of it, Edge watching him the entire way. Edge always looked a little stern and maybe that put people off at first. Not his fault, it was just how he was, his version of resting bitch face. Plus, Stretch had to reluctantly admit that sharp teeth and stark crimson eye lights didn’t usually put most people in the mind of Fluffy Bunny. Stretch knew better though, so much better what lay beneath that grumpy exterior and watching Edge’s harsh expression softened a little at the, heh, edges never failed to give Stretch the melting wibblies. 

So did the glasses, but that was a private secret, thanks, he didn’t need Edge trying to indulge his filthy nerd fetish. 

“i made you a drink.” Stretch held up the cup with all the grandeur of offering an Academy Award and not one of the shitty ones for like Fastest Catering or something. 

Edge didn't ask why; maybe he guessed Stretch wanted to pay him back for all the times he did the same thing, or maybe he just didn't care. He set his book aside and took the cup with all the gravitas required of such an occasion. Didn’t leave Stretch squirming and took an immediate sip, swallowed it with a pleased murmur. 

"It’s good,” he pronounced, and yeah, he’d probably lie if it wasn’t, but Edge was sort of a crap liar and Stretch wasn’t picking up anything on his bullshit-o-meter. 

Either way, his pleasure at getting it was pretty damn obvious if you knew what to look for. He set the cup on the little side table and reached out to catch Stretch’s hand, tugging him directly into his lap without passing go or collecting the two-hundred bucks. Not like Stretch was going to resist, not a chance, because Edge gave the best hugs. Probably other people would never suspect it; Edge didn't give off a vibe of being happy about touching anything. But it was the swear by the stars truth; Edge never half-assed and if he was in for a hug, he was in it. All cozy warm and powerful arms, and he’d pull Stretch in close on any given day, at any time. Offer all that he was into one gentle embrace. 

Stretch snuggled in happily, settling his cheekbone against Edge’s sternum. After a while, Edge started reading again over his shoulder, but he made no move to push Stretch back to his feet. Instead, he maneuvered the blanket to cover Stretch, too, cozying them together on an autumn day. Soon enough Stretch was drowsing, lulled by the blanket and Edge’s natural warmth, listening to his husband’s soft breathing. 

“Thank you for the drink,” Edge murmured. It almost seemed to reverberate in Stretch’s skull, the words coming from beneath his auditory canal as much as from above him. 

“welcome,” he mumbled. He could hear Edge take another sip, hear him swallow, the slight fizzling sound of his magic incorporating the cider. Edge shifted and the swing started rocking a little, pushed along by a foot on the ground. 

That left him warm, comfortable, snuggled up with his husband, and rocking like a baby, pretty much exactly where he'd wanted to be. So, if this was a sign of the apocalypse, then Stretch was ready for his handbasket, because he’d ride in it all the way to hell if it meant he got to stay in Edge’s arms. 

-finis-


	14. Hoodwinked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based entirely on a twitter-thought. Why are these boys so damn adorable?

* * *

Vaping sucked, it really did. 

Nothing at all like smoking a cigarette and Stretch slouched on the porch step, sullenly sucking on the e-cig. Edge had offered, rather magnanimously, to let him vape in the house since the smell didn’t linger like ciggies, but Stretch wasn’t about to take him up on it. At least shivering outside in the chill was familiar. 

He took a last puff, rubbing at his arm with his free hand. His own fault for forgetting to put on his hoodie, his t-shirt wasn’t much of a shield against the autumn cool. Next time, Stretch told himself, standing up with a pop of joints and a groan as he headed in.

He only made it as far as the front door.

Edge was right inside rearranging the living room and that was perfectly normal. Sometimes the throw cushions needed to be taught their place, he supposed, and Edge was more than happy to play teacher.

But what brought his mind hamster to a screeching halt at the running wheel was what Edge was wearing. Stretch could only stand there in the doorway, gaping, struggling to put letters into enough order to make actual words and not just a string of vowels. “you…you’re wearing…”

“Hm?” Edge glanced down at himself. “Oh, yes, you left it on the chair. I was going to put it away and putting it on seemed to be the best way not to forget it.”

Edge was wearing one of his hoodies. _His _hoodie, his, all wrapped up snuggly in bright orange and fleece. The sight was too much, his mind hamster was on the verge of collapse. It wasn’t sexy, exactly, not like the way Edge in his motorcycle gear turned his crank. But it was his _hoodie_ and—

—and fuck it all, Edge was inexplicably _cute_. Stretch wore his hoodies big and that meant it was even bigger on Edge. The sleeves were long enough to hang over the hands a bit, perfect for keeping warm but also forcing Edge to constantly push them back up, only for them to almost immediately sag back down. He even had the hood up, his skull engulfed in a fleecy orange that made his eye lights seem even brighter.

Intellectually, Stretch knew Edge was shorter than him. But he always seemed so much larger than life that to see him like this, looking small and way too fucking adorable was like a critical hit right to the soul.

And that was before Edge paused and sort of hugged himself with both arms, all fucking hells. “It’s actually very comfortable.”

Yeah, Stretch was pretty sure that shaved a decimal off his HP. Suddenly Edge’s fetish about having Stretch in his clothes was less weird and more of a shared kink.

It made that poor, abused mind-hamster perk up, wondering if there was any other Edge-isms that would be worth trying.

Like…well. He’d be a liar if he said he didn’t get off on the way Edge liked to casually manhandle him. Anyone in the past who might’ve tried it would’ve taken a quick shortcut into a lake in Waterfall. But with Edge, it felt comforting, gently possessive, and he knew without even saying that Edge would let go the moment he asked.

Maybe the big difference was Edge was the only person he’d ever wanted to belong to.

Yeah. Might be time for an experiment.

Edge didn’t stop him when Stretch strode over and took hold of his shoulders, only blinked a little in surprise and let Stretch walk him backwards, bumping into the wall with a little grunt. He did raise a brow bone when Stretch caged him in with both arms, looming over him like he almost never did.

“Did you want something?” Edge asked archly. But that cool arrogance didn’t last as Stretch ducked his head, nibbling a path up his jaw.

“might,” Stretch admitted. He exhaled hotly against damp bone, felt Edge shiver. “you gonna give it to me?”

His voice was a little breathless, but even Stretch’s mind hamster could hear the smirk in it. “Make me.”

Oh, yeah, Stretch could get used to this. Especially if the hoodie was the only thing staying on.

-Finis-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ Click here to see the gorgeous art hj_skb did of Edge in Stretch's hoodie!](https://twitter.com/hj_skb/status/1181981316130234368)


	15. Tumblr Ask - Spooky Spider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crysta-Cub asked:
> 
> Ever walk into a store (one decked out in Halloween gear) or into a haunted house attraction and have one off those giant mechanical spiders drop down on top of or in front you.... Now throw Edge into that scenario.... (I'm evil)
> 
> ~**~
> 
> It’d probably go something like this—

* * *

“Okay, three spooky…um. I think they were supposed to be gravestones?” The cashier added them to the bag and gingerly picked up a stuffed witch that was straddling a broom. Her head hung limply from the remaining stitching, stuffing pouring from the gaping hole.

“hey, this might be okay to sell—“ a loud cackling began, but the sound quickly garbled down into a wheeze. “maybe not. yeah, better add it.”

“One Frankenstein— sir, you don’t have to do this,” the cashier burst out. Her lower lip trembled. “We understand, we’ve had some Humans break a couple things when that spider startled them, too.”

“No, I insist,” Edge sighed, heavily, “Keep scanning, please.”

She did, looking miserable. Edge did appreciate their offer, but this store was always kind to Monsters. He wasn’t about to cost them money and raise even the possibility of resentment.

Stretch came back from perusing the remains of the display and added a couple of wax pumpkins that looked distinctly melted to the counter. He slung an arm around Edge’s shoulders and pressed such a hard kiss to his cheekbone that his teeth clacked. “don’t worry, babe, this stuff’ll be great for this weekend. i had some plans for the kiddos and this’ll work perfectly!”

It was a blatant lie, or it was for now, Edge had no doubt that by the weekend, there would be such a plan in place. But it was a kindly-meant lie and he let himself relax into Stretch’s arms.

The total made even him wince, but Edge silently held out his credit card. The bags were all stacked carefully into two shopping carts despite the condition of most of the contents.

“andy will be here soon with his car,” Stretch said cheerily, pushing his cart through the automatic door. “since that suitcase you call a trunk ain’t gonna hold everything. i’ll get that inflatable pumpkin patched up, too, and—heh. patch. that wasn’t even on purpose.”

That relentless cheer continued as they sat together on the outside bench. The cool breeze was soothing, easing the last of Edge’s agitation. Foolish and expensive, that, but he supposed he could be grateful that nothing worse had been damaged by his panicked attack against the mechanical spider that leapt out at him. Like a Human. Like—

“quit beating yourself up,” Stretch said, softly, his façade of manic cheer easing. “shit happens, no one got hurt except some decorations, and it’s all good. take your own advice for once, babe.”

Edge took a deep breath and nodded, resisting the urge to say thank you. Instead, he settled his hand on Stretch’s knee, rubbing his thumb along his femur. Stretch allowed it for a moment, then squirmed away from the ticklish touch with a soft laugh and took Edge’s hand in his own instead. 

They waited together in the sunshine, bags fluttering in the breeze, while Edge took Stretch’s, and his own, advice and let it go. 

-finis-


	16. Getting an Earful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge doesn't mind reading to the local children, but that's not the best part.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For hj_skb based on our twitter conversation that Edge would look good in anything. ^_^

* * *

It wasn't as if Edge would have refused to come to the kindergarten, not when Janice's youngest child asked him so earnestly. Most of the littler children were too young for the experiments that Stretch did, and it seemed they were feeling somewhat left out. As evidenced by the child who had come up to Edge on the street, stammering out his typical greeting of ‘Mister Edge Sir’. His long ears drooped back nervously but he’d bravely asked if he and Stretch wouldn’t come in for reading hour.

There wasn’t a chance of Edge refusing that offer. 

And neither would he have refused to wear the headband that the child gave him so earnestly when they’d arrived. The fuzzy rabbit ears were important and must be worn whenever Fluffy Bunny was read, or so Edge had been informed. 

The teacher must have been a diplomat in a former life; her face was schooled to perfect impassiveness, (Ah. Schooled. He'd have to remember that one for Stretch), standing at the back of the classroom with Stretch, both of them watching as Edge slowly and patiently read the book to her students. 

All the children were enraptured as he read, their eyes wide and many of them clutching stuffed animals. (And had he looked similarly enraptured as a child, sitting in back alleys amongst the trash while his brother laboriously read to him from the only book they’d owned at the time? He didn’t know, couldn’t know, and their worn copy had been lost a very long time ago.)

No, Edge wouldn’t have refused any of it, not reading hour nor the headband, but it was made all the sweeter to see the expression on his husband’s face while he gravely sat like an oversized skeletal Easter Bunny, reading to the children. 

He looked, Edge thought fondly, as if every sensible thought in his head had grown wings and flown away, abandoning him to deal with this sight on his own. It was always delightful to surprise his husband and watch as he rearranged his pre-conceived notions to fit around Edge, even better to see Stretch _enjoying_ having his illusions shattered. It made him want to pull him in close, kiss him to get a taste of his happiness. 

Later, he assured himself, where innocent eyes weren’t watching their every move. 

Halfway through the book, he noticed that every so often, Stretch’s slender fingers twitched towards his pocket where his phone was tucked away. The urge must be nigh on unbearable and Edge wondered at why he was resisting it so stringently; surely he couldn’t think Edge would be angry if he took a picture? 

No, there had to be another reason and when he reached up to push one of the drooping ears out of his face, Edge discreetly signed _‘camera?’_ to him.

The children had their backs to Stretch and he didn’t bother with discretion as he signed back, _‘way too easy, edgelord. i’ll get you when you least expect it.’_

Edge kept back his smile, but he could hear it seeping into his voice as he read on, telling enraptured children the tale he’d learned himself at their age about the adventures of a fluffy bunny playing peek-a-boo. 

The ears on the headband tickled and Edge ignored it. After all, the ending of the story was the best part. 

-finis-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [hj_skb provided proof! The Edgelord looks great in all things!](https://twitter.com/hj_skb/status/1182096697922596864)


	17. Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge does all he can, but it never seems like enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter has a depiction of depression in it.

* * *

Edge had noticed the shower running earlier and hadn’t thought much about it. The shower was the main reason they had a bathroom, the toilet being generally reserved for guests, and it had several shower heads with glorious water pressure. The design was chosen as a luxury, one that Edge was perfectly content to indulge in. Spending a fair chunk of his life without access to a ready clean water supply gave Edge a fine appreciation for it now. 

He’d been working on his laptop for some time when he realized he could still hear it, the muffled sound of the spray. A glance at the clock told him it had been nearly an hour since he’d first noticed it and it may well have been running for some time before that and now that he thought on it, Stretch had seemed a little quiet when he got home.

_Fuck._

Edge briskly saved his work and closed the laptop lid before heading upstairs, grimly suspecting that he wouldn’t be working any longer tonight. 

A light rap on the door went unanswered and when Edge tried the knob it opened readily. He stepped over the scattered pile of clothing on the floor, calling softly, “Love?”

No reply. 

Edge took a long, slow breath and pulled the curtain back enough to look inside. The sight of his husband sitting curled up in the tub beneath the spray made a sharp ache clench in his soul. Stretch’s bones were flushed a faint orange from the temperature; their hot water heater was more than capable of handling several hours running, but in the long run, it wasn’t going to make Stretch feel better. In Edge’s experience, nothing but patience and time ever managed that. 

He reached around and turned off the water. The flow trailed off into a splutter of dribbles and drips. Almost immediately he could hear the faint clatter of bones as Stretch shuddered, perhaps from the sudden loss of heat, more likely from whatever internal demon he was currently battling. 

What Edge wouldn’t give to be able to fight that battle for him. He couldn’t, knew he couldn’t. The best Edge could do was try to mitigate the damage. 

He grabbed a clean towel from the stack and wrapped it around Stretch’s shoulders, trying to keep the chill at bay as he coaxed, “Come on, love. Let’s get up.”

It took persuasion mixed with a little brute strength, but he managed to get Stretch to his feet. When he seemed steady, Edge pulled loose the dampened towel and quickly replaced it with another, all the better to keep him warm. 

He didn’t bother trying to persuade Stretch to walk to the bedroom, only scooped him up and carried him, settling him to sit on the corner of their bed. Stretch didn’t own much in the way of pajamas, so Edge chose a pair of his own, swaddled him in soft flannel and the clean smell of laundry detergent. 

That Stretch allowed all of it silently was deeply upsetting, but Edge only banked his own concern, tamping it down as he settled his husband into bed. He wasn’t shivering, and yet somehow, he still looked chilled, enough that Edge retrieved a spare blanket from the closet to bundle around him as well. 

It was the best he could do, never seemed to be enough. 

When he was done, Edge asked him softly, “Can I get you anything?”

The room was dim, and he could see the flicker of Stretch’s eye lights as he slowly blinked. Edge wouldn’t press, he only ever asked a question once, didn’t want Stretch to feel pressured to answer. Just as Edge began to think he wouldn’t, he heard Stretch take a soft, shuddery breath. 

“could you sit with me?” A low, dull whisper and the ache in Edge’s soul sharpened. A bad one, then, and it was useless to hate the grayness that descended on Stretch during these bouts. It didn’t stop Edge from doing it. 

He didn’t bother with anything as mild as sitting on the bed, stripped off briskly and climbed bare bones beneath the blankets, settling behind Stretch. Close, but not quite touching, leaving it for Stretch to decide what he wanted. That he immediately slithered closer, moving willingly on his own for the first time since the shower, was gratifying. Edge pulled him close, keeping his hold loose and careful. 

“thank you.” Still that low, dull whisper, tinged with unnecessary gratitude. 

“Always,” Edge murmured to him, pressing a brief kiss to Stretch’s temple. “Always. Anything you need.”

Stretch only pressed back against him, silently urging Edge to tighten his embrace and he did, gladly. Held him close, scattered kisses on Stretch’s skull and shoulders, murmured soft, nonsense words of love while he trembled in Edge’s arms. Anything Edge could do, he would. 

He couldn’t fight his love’s demons for him, but at least Edge could try to help chase them away.

-finis-


	18. Play Called For Inter-Fur-Ence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sans meets Red’s new kitten. It goes swell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red found himself with a ‘temporary’ kitten in ch. 11, A Fur-midable Problem. Some people wanted to see how Sans reacted to it, so here we are! Nothing but Kustard here, fyi!

* * *

Sans was tired. His own fault and he knew it, too many fingers stuck in too many pies, and not enough sack time to make up for it.

But tonight as he took a shortcut into Red’s living room, the only pie Sans was thinking of sinking into was probably upstairs, only Red tended more towards vinegar than chocolate cream.

Course Red wasn’t so much one of the pies as he was running the bakery. If Sans was tired, that asshole must be fucking exhausted. He’d better be sleeping or Sans was going to start working on a plan to tie him down. Even if he managed, (and managing was a rare, delicious treat, better than any bad Gyftmas sweater) they probably wouldn’t end doing much sleeping, but, hey, at least they’d have fun.

The meow didn’t really register at first. Sure, Sans heard it, but it was so hard to reconcile that it existed in Red’s living room that it flew past him like a frisbee on picnic day.

The second meow, now that one smacked him right in the perception. Especially since it was attached to a furry little body that came trotting out from around the coffee table. 

For a minute, both of them stared at each with identical expressions of ‘who the fuck are you?’. The kitten recovered first, arching their back and hissing, looking just about as threatening as, well, a kitten.

Sans only stared, nonplussed. Welp, this day had taken a left turn at Albuquerque, hadn't it. 

“knock it off, fuzzball, he’s allowed.”

That came from behind him. He turned to see Red wandering down the stairs, still in his rumpled shirt and shorts, but his bony feet bare. He sank down on the sofa almost immediately, stains of exhaustion beneath his closed sockets. 

Yeah, it looked like any tying was going to be of the grumpy, go-the-fuck-to-sleep variety.

Nonplussed got swapped out for bemused when the kitten promptly hopped into Red’s lap. It butted against his lax hand imperiously until Red began to stroke him with gentleness that would probably give most of New New Home a stroke to see it.

Heh. Stroking giving a stroke. 

Speaking of stroking, the original reason Sans came over was for a little of his own and he shuffled over to the sofa. Only to freeze when the kitten immediately stiffened, hair rising on its back. 

Red cracked open one socket, ironically the one without a crack in it. “s’matter, sansy? don’t be a pussy, sit.”

He did, gingerly settling next to Red. “i’m not a dog and that’s a cat.”

“think it was your observational skills that turned me on when we first met,” Red said. He lazily scratched the kitten’s tiny head with one sharp fingertip.

“why is it a cat?”

“think that’s one for the philosophers, sweetheart.”

“if you’d rather play with yourself, i can head home—“

The hand on his knee wouldn’t have stopped him, even if the threat wasn’t as empty as their skulls. But fuck if Sans wasn’t too tired for a round of shortcut-catch-me-and-you-can-top tag, so he let it stay. “cool your jets. the boss brought him over, asked me to watch him for a couple days.”

Sans didn’t really have the capacity anymore to be surprised by much, but yeah, there was a notch to add to his mental chalkboard. The rules that Edge and Red had for their relationship probably had its own manual and if it did, it definitely read like IKEA instructions. 

He wondered what page ‘babysit kitten’ was on. “why did he bring you a cat?

Red snorted. “cause the honey bun pisses himself whenever he sees a kitty-kitty.” 

Sans gave him a hard look on that one; he wasn’t keen on peoples making fun of anyone’s trauma except their own. Didn’t matter that Red’s sockets were still closed; Sans counted on Red always seeing everything, made it easier to plan shit that way. 

Whether he actually saw the look or just felt the skittering crawl of his sins up his back, it seemed that Red had enough sense to at least try to look abashed, so Sans let it go. This time.

“why you, though?” Sans persisted. There were plenty of people, including his bro, that Edge would’ve walked past on his kitten delivery duty.

Red shrugged, then soothed the kitten as it mewed faintly at the shifting of its sittin’ place. “same reason. i don’t put out the party trays too often, so stretch won’t be bumping into ozzy here.”

“ozzy?” Ah, now they were getting somewhere. “as in osbourne?”

“as fucking if,” Red snorted. “as in ramesses.”

“yeah, i see the resemblance.” Sans didn’t bother telling him that when pets reached the named phase, the whole ‘for a few days’ thing was off the table. He reached out to give the kitten a light pat, only to snatch his hand back as it screeched its displeasure and tried to bite at his fingers with needle-sharp teeth. “yep, fits perfectly. what the fuck kind of brainwashing did you do to it already?”

“it is a he and nuthin’. either he’s the worst judge of character ever or the best, it’s a tossup.

“and you’re a tosser, let’s go with worst.” Sans yawned, ignoring the kitten, Ozzy’s, yowl as he leaned against Red tiredly. Cuddling with another skeleton was about as comfortable as trying to fuck an erector set, but Sans didn’t care. More important was not having Red shove him to the floor or try to give him a matching bite with much sharper teeth than ones a kitten could have.

Red did neither, only sat in the corner of the sofa, squashed in by kitten and Sans. If it bothered him, he said nothing, only squirmed and sighed, settling in for a nap.

Sans gave the kitten a wary look, one that he returned with a hell of a lot of vehemence for such a little thing, and they settled in, too, crammed up even tighter against Red. Not that he would be trapped by either of them, Sans wasn’t stupid enough to believe that. But at least if Red tried to shortcut out, he’d be taking them both along for the ride.

-finis-


	19. Under the Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edge knows he shouldn’t let the rain bring him down.

* * *

  
The weather was turning towards nasty when Edge left the Embassy that day. That morning’s overcast sky had changed into cold, drizzly rain and he could only hunch down against the chilly droplets, hurrying to his car. Much as he disliked taking one of the trouble trios shortcuts, today he would have willingly traded a few minutes of nausea over jogging to his car through this.  
  
It turned into a downpour almost exactly at the moment he shut the driver’s side door, a reason to be a little grateful, he supposed. His windshield wipers thrummed with merciless metronome precision as he drove and everything around him seemed gray. The empty sidewalks, the other cars in a sea of brake lights as they all drove grimly through traffic and rain.  
  
By the time he turned into security gate to New New Home, it was beginning to color his mood; the pleasant exhaustion of a successful day turning to a dismal wish to be quickly home. The volume of the rain turned into a torrent as he rolled down the window to hand his pass to the guard, the fall of it pounding against the pavement in counter-rhythm to the wipers.  
  
His windshield fogged over before he rolled the window back up. Edge turned on the defrost and drove on through, past the brief shelter of the station and back into the storm, already wishing he was home.  
  
Even the streets here were empty, the rain too chilly for the Monsters who’d lived in Waterfall. 

He saw it before he even turned into the driveway, a sudden splotch of cheer against the gloom. An oversized umbrella, as bright orange as an autumn pumpkin and a fair match to the Monster who was standing on their porch beneath it.  
  
Stretch waited for him to pull into the drive before leaving the porch. He splashed fearlessly through the puddles, his untied sneakers visibly soaked as he ran up to the driver’s side door, holding the umbrella over it as Edge stepped out.  
  
“hi, babe,” Stretch said cheerfully. “thought you might want to keep your fancy suit dry!” His concern didn’t seem to extend to himself as he stood more in the rain than not, keeping Edge beneath the brilliant orange canopy even as his sweatshirt darkened in the downpour, raindrops rolling down his skull to drip from his chin. The day might be rain-soaked and chilly but there was nothing but warmth in his pale eye lights, his smile inviting Edge to join in on whatever secret joke was in his soul.  
  
Stretch’s surprised sound was trapped mostly in Edge’s mouth as he caught hold of the front of his soaking sweatshirt and pulled him down into a damp kiss. He barely noticed the wetness suddenly streaming down his own skull as the umbrella skewed to the side. His focus was entirely on his husband melting into the kiss, one slippery hand cupping Edge’s face.

The kiss lingered, the two of them alone in the rain, until Stretch finally drew back with a sigh. Hastily, he steadied the umbrella, but it was far too late. He let out soft laugh, his damp fingers brushing over the wetness streaming down Edge’s face ineffectively. “i was trying to help you stay dry.”

“Thank you for trying,” Edge told him, then pulled his laughing, beloved face down for another rain-drenched kiss.

-finis-


	20. Tumblr Ask - Shoe Thief

_kiwaid asked:_

__

_an idea: stretch is chilling in the backyard with the girls. he took is shoes off. one of them just comes and. sits on his shoe. he never gets his shoe back_

Okay, yeah, I can do that. 😄

* * *

Edge wasn’t quite sure what to make of his husband’s expression when he came to let him know dinner was ready. It was a strange mixture of perturbed and resigned, and directed towards the chickens that were currently on the ground in front of him.

“What’s wrong?” Edge asked warily. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted an answer.

Which, to be fair, he didn’t really get one. Instead, Stretch mutely gestured at the ground. At first, Edge didn’t see the problem. Three chickens, no more, no less, that was the goal. A closer look revealed the truth.

Stretch must have kicked off his shoes when he’d sat down on the swing, a not uncommon occurrence. But never before had his shoes found a new resident after he did, in the shape of a large, white chicken who was nesting pertly on top of one of his grubby Converse. Gently, Edge nudged Noodle with the toe of his own boot, to no avail. He did it again somewhat firmer and this time Noodle leaned with it until she was almost parallel with the ground. But the moment he stepped back, she flumped back down onto the shoe, even nestled in contentedly with cooing happiness.

“Hm,” Edge’s mouth twisted with bemusement. “She doesn’t seem to want to move.”

“we didn’t need to run a field test for me to see that.” Stretch scowled down at her. “i will need that back eventually.”

“I’m not sure you’ll be getting it tonight.”

Stretch sighed, looking woefully at the expanse of yard between the swing and the sliding glass door like one regarding an apocalyptic wasteland. He turned that expression of despair back to Edge, raising both arms and wheedling, “carry me?”

Edge raised a brow bone, unimpressed, even as Stretch upped the power of his pouting to eleven. Finally, he sighed and easily scooped Stretch up, ignoring his happy squeak. “It’s amazing how often I end up lugging you around, considering you have built-in transport,” Edge mused.

Stretch only snuggled in, both arms creeping around Edge’s shoulders. “you love it.”

“I do,” Edge nuzzled a kiss against his cheekbone and his satisfied little purr turned to a yowl when Edge deliberately pinched his coccyx through his shorts. “I’m always scrambling for a chance to hold you.”

Stretch groaned, “that was weak, babe, i’m calling fowl.”

“The only foul thing around here is likely to be your shoe. You’ll have to wash them both.”

“yeah, she’s a nest-y piece of work,” Stretch snickered, cutting off into a yelp as Edge pinched him again, “okay, okay, i’m done.”

Not quite, he wasn’t, Edge had plans for them both once they were safely inside. Once Stretch was pleasantly exhausted, Edge decided he’d try again for a shoe retrieval mission. Until then, he thought with private amusement, this victory was for the birds.

Fin


	21. Tumblr Ask - Red's sickness

_crysta-cub asked:_

_... ... ... Sooooooooo... Say Red gets sick... Maybe, in my brain plottingness that it does, he's being a stubborn ass and refusing to recognize it and keeps working, Edge has to step in or something... We've seen Edge and Stretch get sick and be taken care of... Now my brain is curious about the can of worms that comes about when Red does. If you want... No pressure. :3 =^.^=_

This probably wasn’t what you were hoping for, but this was where my brain went. ^_^ 

* * *

Red took being a pain in the ass to an art form, Stretch decided, stepping out of a shortcut to the sidewalk in front of Red’s overgrown yard. Everyone had been given the chance to move out of Old Town, but noooo, Red had to lurk over in the bad part of town. If you could call a few rows of neat little carbon-copy houses that only needed a weed whacking the bad part. He’d probably stayed mostly for the aggravation. Anyone who couldn’t shortcut needed to either drive over or leg it, and that at least added to the annoyance factor that anyone who needed to see Red was probably already racking up.

Edge’d probably added a stack to his score already. He’d gotten a text from Sans earlier and about the only thing Stretch gleaned was that Red was sick and that Sans was peaceing out on his bullshit. Guess that whole ‘sickness and health’ thing wasn’t part of their gig, but then, could be that Sans was trying to keep from getting sick himself. Hey, he had low HP. It could happen.

Anywho, Edge had seemed, eh, kinda distraught about it; made sense, it was his bro and all. Stretch only wanted to check on them, make sure everything was okay. Settle his own anxiety from where it was stirred up and heavy in his chest.

He went with shave and a haircut on his knock, but he was gonna have to live without the two-bits. The door only opened a crack, revealing a single crimson eye light glaring out from the darkness. Not much guesswork as to who it belonged to because Red would’ve needed a stepladder to get that high. Then again, Stretch wouldn’t put it past him to drag one over just to fuck with people. It creaked open a little further to show that Red wasn’t feeling up to being a completely bag of dicks today, revealing Edge who only blinked at Stretch like he was the last person he’d expected on his bro’s porch. Geez, way to make a guy feel wanted. That thought came to a screeching halt when Edge opened the door entirely, stepping halfway out. “What are you doing here?”

That was what Edge asked, but the real question was volleyed back to Stretch’s side of the court and should’ve been, ‘what the fuck happened to you??’. In the two hours since he’d left, Edge had changed from a sexy hunka hunka to one with a harried, hunted look haunting his sockets. The nice, clean shirt he’d been wearing when he left their house was splattered with what looked like…soup? Stretch really hoped it was soup. One of the sleeves was ripped to tatters, the fabric floating like streamers. Those same smears were on the toes of his boots, stark against the black leather along with more weird splotches that Stretch really wasn’t interested in getting a close look at.

Uh.

Stretch shook his head, giving his mental etch-a-sketch a restart. “uh, i was stopping by to see if you needed anything. um. did red get a pet tiger to keep the kitten company or what?”

“No, of course not,” Edge said distractedly. He scratched at his cheek bone, dried hopefully-soup flaking away. “You shouldn’t—“ a loud crash came from behind him and they both winced. “—be here,” he finished.

“uh.” That seemed to be Stretch’s signature phrase today. Another crash and honestly, either there was a hockey team upstairs or Red had made a dubious investment in breeding miniature elephants. “is everything okay?”

“Everything is fine,” Edge said, even as another crash rattled its way down the stairs. He blew out a long breath, rubbing a knuckle between his sockets like a headache was taking root and sprouting limbs. “Red doesn’t handle being a patient very well.”

“babe, your gift for understatement is just about a national treasure.” Stretch reached out gingerly and plucked a noodle from Edge’s splotched shirt, examining it with curious disgust. Hm. Definitely soup, probably Edge’s special recipe. Nice to have that confirmed.

Edge started to grab his wrist, gloved fingers flexing abortively as he stopped himself from touching. It was like his own state of complete desecration didn’t register; he only looked worried as he said, “Love, please, you should go. I don’t want you getting sick, too.”

“yeah, yeah, i get you.“ Especially since he wasn’t convinced Red wasn’t turning into a zombie or a werewolf or something up there. Every B-movie he’d ever seen agreed, gotta keep that shit contained. "if you need anything, more soup, clean towels, a book on diy exorcisms, text me? i can leave stuff on the porch, but any priest is gonna have to drive himself.”

“The way this is going, you may need to bring a broom,” Edge muttered darkly, and yeah, if he was making jokes about fratricide already, he was in for a long night. No wonder Sans ditched, Stretch was about to send his shoes a'walkin’, too.

Stretch could only grimace. "love you, babe. uh. text me later?”

“I will. I love you, too.” He shut the door before Stretch could toss any other witticisms his way. Probably for the best, looked like Edge had enough to carry for the night.

Stretch hopped off the porch and a shortcut later, he was wandering into their house to wait. But he kept his phone close, just in case. If Edge needed some silver bullets or stakes, he wanted to be ready.

-finis


	22. Tumblr Ask - Chicken Chatter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can this series have too much chicken content? I think not!

* * *

_hj_skb1 asked:_

_Considering how much the chickens are a part of Stretch and Edge’s life, what kind of things would the three chicken ladies be hypothetically talking about, if they could suddenly be understood by Stretch and Edge......? 🤔_

I misread the question at way too early this morning and thought it said what would they be thinking about. I think this drabble still works though, so chicken fluff incoming. ^_^

* * *

“what do you think chickens think about whenever they’re thinking about things?”

It took Jeff a minute to parse that little brain teaser. He and Stretch were sitting out in the backyard on top of a heavy blanket, laid down to keep the damp of the ground at bay. Probably Edge’s idea, Stretch had never been shy about flopping down no matter the condition it was in. Today the autumn chill was sinking its teeth in and Jeff didn’t think they’d be outside long. Stretch already looked a little cold despite his sweatshirt, shivering minutely.

“Do chickens think?” Jeff wondered idly. “Seems like a philosophical quandary.” 

Nugget was on the blanket with them, chirring contentedly with an overabundance of scritches from both of them. Noodle and Dumpling were scratching at the ground, searching for any fall bugs who hadn’t succumbed yet to the dropping temperatures.

“that’d be a master’s level class; do chickens think. probably falls under language survey.” 

“Considering that their brains are comparable in size to an almond, they’re probably thinking food, food, water, food, sleep.” They both turned to see Edge walking up to them. He was wearing a jacket as a shield from the chilly breeze and he was carrying something in his hands. It turned out to be a brightly colored knit hat with a jaunty little pompon on the top. He pulled over Stretch’s head, yanking it down over his sockets. 

“babe, you have no imagination,” Stretch huffed, pushing up the hat enough to see. It turned into a yelp as Edge sat behind him and pulled him flailing into his lap. He tucked Stretch almost inside his jacket with him to shield him from the wind.

“I prefer reality.” He nuzzled ticklishly at Stretch’s cervical vertebrae, making him squirm.

“I feel like I should remind you that I’m here,” Jeff said, but he couldn’t keep from smiling. Yeah, he shipped it, and hey, it was canon, too. “and also, I didn’t buy tickets for the show.”

“don’t worry, andy,” Stretch laughed even as he tried to fend off Edge’s teasing kisses. “he keeps it to a g-rating.”

The chickens had noticed Edge’s presence by then, Noodle and Dumpling abandoning their constant search for bugs to dance around both skeletons, distraught that Stretch was in their rightful place on his lap. Nugget watched with interest, but seemed content with the pets that Jeff was currently offering.

“dunno, babe,” Stretch chuckled, reaching out to give Dumpling a gentle scratch. “think it might be more ‘food, food, Edge!!, food.’”

“I’d say they have im-peck-able taste,” Edhe said dryly even as he gently stroked a hand over Noodle, “but I’ve seen what they eat.”

“Was that an actual pun,” Jeff began, even as Stretch cracked up laughing, snuggling back against Edge.

“yeah, edge has a lot of hidden talents. sometimes he’ll even let you find one.” Stretch pressed a clacking kiss of his own to Edge’s cheekbone. “sorry, ladies, he’s taken.” 

Whatever Edge whispered to Stretch must’ve breached the g-rating because a bright orange flush colored his cheekbones even as he snickered. Jeff only shook his head and offered Dumpling a few scritches that were eagerly accepted, even as Noodle and Nugget began clamoring for their own.

Maybe the chickens didn’t have much to think about, but Jeff kinda liked being one of the people on their minds.

-finis-


	23. Tumblr Ask - Red's sickness #2

_Crysta_Cub asked:_

_In regards to the Red sick drabble. Seems Edge would probably be due for a little TLC after being wrung through the wringer and we all know how much Stretch loves to take care of his husband. I can imagin Edge being exhauted from that trial. But I also wonder if Red ever apologizes for his behavior... Not in a typicial "sorry bro I'm an ass" type of way but in a more Red sort of way, probably subtle that only Edge would recognize. _

Hmm, Red always does things his own way, doesn’t he. How would it go when he started feeling better?

* * *

Edge couldn’t say he was satisfied with the cleanliness of his brother’s sofa, but he’d rested in far worse places with Red. Back when his name was still Sans and he was Papyrus, long before the days when the sight of the two of them made most XP hunters turn tail and run.

Thinking of it made Edge frown faintly. He must be more exhausted than he’d thought to be recalling that, the memory was not a fond one.

There was a broken strut in Red’s sofa, making it sag in the middle, right beneath his spine and when his brother lived through this illness, Edge was going to buy him a new one and drag this one out back to burn. Grillby probably owed one of the Sanses a favor or two, perhaps he’d be inclined to help.

Nothing but silence came from upstairs. His brother’s fever had finally broken a couple of hours ago, to Edge’s multilayered relief. It was a sign that Red was beginning to recover, but also that Edge wouldn’t have to attempt to take him to the hospital after all. The restraints that could hold his brother hadn’t yet been built and having to cling to him until Red exhausted himself with desperate shortcuts would be a vomiting misery for them both.

But they’d been spared that. Red subsided back on his bed, shuddering weakly as Edge cautiously wiped the sticky magical residue from his bones that passed as sweat. He’d been too exhausted for even a baleful glare, falling into a deep, hopefully restful sleep.

He might be on the road to recovery, but Edge wasn’t prepared to leave him just yet. He’d cleaned Red’s room while his brother rested and after couple hours of sleep on this wretched sofa, he’d spend some time finishing up cleaning his brother’s shithole house; wash his bed linens and dishes, leave him with several meals that could be easily reheated or even eaten cold if his brother chose to be particularly disgusting.

Just a couple hours and he’d get back up. 

He was more asleep than not when the blanket settled over him, and his sleep-addled mind didn’t register a threat. Not from the person, nor the warm, soft cover, and Edge only pulled it around himself, mumbling tiredly, “Thanks, love.”

He thought he heard someone hesitate, wondered drowsily why Stretch would be surprised at the nickname when Edge always called him that? He almost turned over to look, but a skeletal hand rested lightly on his shoulder, soothing his confusion.

He drifted off to a dreamless sleep, buried in warmth that smelled like cigarettes and laundry detergent. 

-finis-


	24. Sharing Tastes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on a snippet that I posted on twitter. I like the idea of shared autumn days and decided I needed a little more.

* * *

The rooftop patio was empty; most of the coffee shop patrons staying inside in deference to the dropping temperatures. There was only one figure sitting beneath one of the large umbrellas, a bright splash of orange against the muted gray of the day.

He had his face turned into the breeze, seeming to find some serenity in the cool wind. Sockets closed, his skull covered in a soft grey cap trimmed with orange, and his chin tilted up out of his scarf to catch the same gusts that scattered fallen leaves to crackle between the metal legs of the tables and chairs. 

Edge stood and watched him until the heat from the cups in his hands started to come through the cardboard sleeves, not yet uncomfortably. He walked across the patio, deliberately allowing his boots to click against the palazzo tiles.

Stretch opened his sockets up as he came closer. His pale eye lights were bright beneath his knit cap, his smile even brighter. He took the cup that Edge offered him eagerly, cupping his hands around it like holding a small, lit candle.

“what’d you get me?” Stretch asked curiously. The white plastic lid hid the contents, only a thin stream of steam curling up from the tiny opening on the lip.

“Taste it and find out.” Edge sat on the bench next to him. His own cup was in his gloved hands, but he made no move to drink from it. He enjoyed his coffee, but that was a familiar known. What he wanted was to see Stretch try his.

He held back a smile as Stretch made a face at him. But then, he’d never needed to show his smile for Stretch to know it was there. 

The easy solution was probably to sniff the cup. That likely wouldn’t give him the entire story, but at least a footnote. Stretch wasn’t one to take the easy route. He held the cup up, assessing it with his hands as though he could distinguish the contents from weight alone. He sloshed it lightly, perhaps testing for any extras like whipped cream or sprinkles. 

Finally, his curiosity got the best of him. He took a small sip, rolling in gingerly over his tongue. He was smiling before he even swallowed it down, turning to Edge with wind-chilled cheekbones and delight. 

“you always know me so well,” Stretch told him, taking a longer sip. 

“I try,” Edge said modestly and Stretch laughed. 

He wanted to know him, Edge did not say. Always wanted to know him, even for such a simple thing as to be able to choose a hot drink for him on a cold day. 

Before he could take a sip of his own drink, Stretch leaned in and kissed him, shared that overly sweet flavor between them. Then he turned enough to lean back against Edge, snuggling against him and sipping from his cup. 

Edge slipped an arm around him, hardly able to feel him beneath his puffy jacket. Pulled him in close while the wind blew around them and crisp leaves rose in idle whirlwinds. He began to drink his own coffee. It was slightly bitter, dark-roasted, nothing that Stretch would enjoy. 

But when he stole a kiss of his own, Stretch leaned into it easily, mingling faint sweetness with slightly bitter, and the taste made him sigh into Stretch’s mouth, deepening the kiss. He wanted to share it as long as it lasted. 

-finis-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Please check out the adorable artwork maddieblay did for this!!](https://keelywolfe.tumblr.com/post/188800372623/maddieblay-some-ink-doodles-based-on-fanfic-a)


End file.
